Home
by Novi T. Foxtrot
Summary: An SIA tale, AU by definition, that looks at a day in CJ Cregg's life during season 7... last two chapters have been posted. I hope you enjoy. Bests, Novi.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: Home**

**Author: Novi T. Foxtrot - N123TF**

**Fandom: The West Wing**

**Parings: CJ/Simon**

**Set: implied season 6/7, but AU…**

**Disclaimer: Character rights belong to Warner Bros. Entertainment, Inc. and John Wells Productions. **

**CHAPTER 1**

The metal door squeaked open causing Simon to glance up. "Mr. Donovan?" A man called. Simon nodded his head, standing up from the folding metal chair he had been sitting in. The man stepped out towards him, the door banged shut behind him. "I'm John Henderson. We spoke on the phone last week. I'm glad you could make it."

"As I said it's no problem." Simon said shaking the man's outstretched hand.

"Well the others are inside. This shouldn't take too long." He said pulling open the door and leading the way inside.

After the formalities were taken care of, Mr. Henderson addressed Simon. "As I told you on the phone Mr. Donovan these matters are mandatory, this hearing was set during the original sentencing. Please state your name and connection to this case for the record."

"My name is Simon Donovan. I was Special Agent in charge of CJ Cregg's Secret Service detail four and a half years ago." Simon stated, the sound of his voice echoed off the concrete block walls. "I am currently the Deputy Special Agent in Charge for the Bartlet Presidential Detail."

"Mr. Donovan," said the gentleman who had spoken earlier, "this is the initial parole hearing for Jeffrey Davis. I called you, last week, in an effort to better understand an item that appears in his prison record. Can you explain the events that led to the prisoner being placed in solitary confinement two years ago?"

"Yes, I can." Simon stated.

Simon looked down at the case file that sat on the worn wood table before him in the sparsely furnished room. "As you know in May of 2002 Ms. Cregg began receiving death threats, it became apparent that the same person was stalking and photographing Ms. Cregg. I was assigned at the request of the President and Ron Butterfield, the head of the Presidential detail, to lead a protection team for Ms. Cregg. The Secret Service investigated and identified Mr. Davis as the perpetrator. He was later found guilty and sentenced to a prison sentence of five and a half years. At the time of sentencing a permanent restraining order was placed on her behalf.

"In July of 2003, after Ms. Cregg had been prominently in the press, Mr. Davis began contacting her again in electronic format. At that time the prison warden, Mr. Garcia, was contacted and Mr. Davis' computer privileges were revoked, as I believe they are still."

The sole woman on the three judge panel spoke up, "but that doesn't explain his time in solitary."

Simon had the urge to roll his eyes at her, he however knew it was much wiser to restrain the urge "if you'd let me continue."

"Go ahead Agent Donovan," the third individual said.

"Over the next few months, the Secret Service began intercepting letters, to date he has sent forty-seven letters over the last three years. In the beginning we were able to identify the paper as coming from the prison, and a handwriting analyst confirmed Mr. Davis as the writer, again we spoke to the warden and Mr. Meyer was this time sent to solitary confinement. There were hopes that this would stop the contact, but Mr. Davis we believe is using another inmate to send the letters out of the prison, before using yet another individual to resend the letters from another location to Ms. Cregg."

The woman shook her head sadly, "While the Secret Service continues to monitor his contact with Ms. Cregg, his threat level remains low as he is incarcerated. I have brought for you relevant portions of his case file which outline in more detail what I described, as well as copies of several of his letters." Simon stood up and walked around the table placing the manila folder in the outstretched hand, before returning to his seat. The three people began going through the documents, skimming each page quickly before handing it to the next person. After a moment the woman spoke up, "In your opinion Mr. Donovan, if the prisoner were to be released how likely do you believe it to be that Mr. Davis would re-offend and violate his parole?"

Simon didn't hesitate, "Mr. Davis' letters over the last three years have become less and less threatening; however I believe, as is the consensus at the Secret Service that a parole violation would be inevitable."

"Thank you Agent Donovan." John Henderson said to him, indicating that they were finished. Simon nodded his head as the recorder was turned off. Standing up John told Simon he would walk him out.

"As I said when we talked last week, no one is going to recommend that Mr. Davis be released. You're not going to have to worry about him for a couple more years."

Simon smiled. "Load off my back,"

They had reached the car. Noticing the child seat in the back John asked "You have kids? I have three: a daughter, seven and, sons, eleven and twelve."

Simon smiled. "A daughter Emma; she's three. Three and a quarter, she would want me to say." He pulled a picture out of his wallet, the sun catching the silver of his badge.

"I just figured that a man in your work," John left the thought incomplete. "She's adorable," he said looking at the picture.

"Thank you. Well she wasn't really planned. But the best things never are. Are they?" Simon said fingering the picture that John had handed back to him.

"No they aren't." John said.

"It was nice to meet you, John. I'll keep you updated if anything comes up on the case."

"I appreciate it. Thanks for coming down this morning."

Simon reached for the car door, the handle already hot to the touch; the August day was going to be a scorcher.

"Simon?" John called. "I just had one more question, clarification actually."

Simon stopped short of leaning down to climb into the car. Instead he turned, resting his arm on the top of the now opened car door. Behind him, the heat that had accumulated in the car disseminated causing the air to blister in the heat.

"I noticed in the case files that you brought, you are no longer the lead agent on the case, yet you seem _au fait_ on the current details."

"When the case was reopened it fell outside the duties of my job, but the job has allowed me to keep an eye on it." That was the simple answer, but he might as well tell the truth. The fact that this man was even asking made Simon doubt if this man ever read the newspaper, let alone Page Six. "Even if I had wanted to remain on the case, I wouldn't have been able to; Mr. Davis began contacting CJ Cregg when our daughter Emma was born."

_------------ CUT TO WEST WING TITLES-----------_


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: Home**

**Author: Novi T. Foxtrot - N123TF**

**Fandom: The West Wing**

**Parings: CJ/Simon**

**Set: implied season 6/7, but AU…**

**Disclaimer: Character rights belong to Warner Bros. Entertainment, Inc. and John Wells Productions. **

**CHAPTER 2**

"Mommy!" the pajama clad girl yelled as CJ opened the front door to their Maryland home. They had moved in shortly after discovering she was pregnant. While living in the city was convenient for them both, Simon and she had decided that they didn't want their child to grow up in the city. Emma had not just been unplanned but a complete surprise that meant many life changes including marriage, nonetheless CJ could not imagine her life without the little girl in it. There would be many more changes in the next year. Bartlet would be leaving office in six months, his replacement as of yet unknown and it looked as if Simon would be getting a huge promotion.

Their marriage had done wonders to Simon's career. While he was an excellent agent to begin with and held in high regard, particularly after his role at Rosslyn, Simon had been thrust into the world of politics first hand. He now had a seat at the President's table at the same state dinners which he spent the first part of his career working. It probably didn't help that his daughter called the President of the United States 'Grandpa.' In addition Ron Butterfield, who had personally recruited Simon nearly 15 years ago, would become the Director of the Secret Service come December 1st and as his deputy Simon was a shoe-in for the hole Ron would be leaving as Special Agent in Charge of the Bartlet Presidential Detail. Not that it would be the Bartlet detail much longer after that, she reminded herself.

Which reminded CJ of the one thing she couldn't seem to forget as of late; she had no clue what she was going to do come January 20th. Toby, Josh, and Sam had handpicked the current Democratic Nominee and if luck and a bit of skill would have it, their offices would not be moving too far. Actually if Andi had her way Toby would be home a lot more, it didn't seem to be boding well for him now that she thought about it, but she couldn't blame Andi and she would bet Toby was looking forward to making up for lost time with the twins.

When Josh and Sam left to run the campaign, Toby took over the deputy chief of staff's legislative role, which left CJ scrambling to fill the empty shoes in Communications; she lasted a month juggling the extra pressures until she had finally broke down and hired someone to replace herself as Press Secretary. While she was loathed to give up the job she loved, in its last year the administration had successfully gone after their agenda at full speed after implementing several tactical communications changes.

Tonight though, she was content to be home in time to tuck her daughter into bed. Setting her bag down on the entry's hardwood floors she picked up her little girl who was obviously towing the line that existed between exhaustion and a meltdown. She had been up since six o'clock, sans her normal 45 minute nap. Emma rested her head against her mom's shoulder, her little hand rubbing CJ's arm a sure sign that she was tired, as the little girl talked in rapid fire about her day. CJ inhaled the sent of shampoo and bubble bath. Her head resting slightly against her daughter's as she ran a hand soothingly up and down her back. If the sight of the little girl in her PJs, wasn't enough the fruity sent caused her to admonish herself; she should have left work earlier. CJ mentally made a note to do so the following evening. Toby would understand, after all he probably felt the same thing when he finally arrived home to Huck, Molly, and Andi.

"Upstairs CJ," Simon's voice called.

Hoisting Emma up further on her hip she climbed the stairs that led to the bedrooms on the second floor and found her husband hanging up the wet towels from bath time.

There was no you're late, instead Simon kissed her hello, before dropping a soft kiss in the little girl's hair. They had both long ago realized the CJ made a concerted effort to get home early, but being realistic, being late happened more often than not and they choose to accept the fact, instead of making it a contention in their marriage.

"You want me to take her, while you go change?" Simon asked, seeing as she had already removed her shoes.

"No, I'm okay for now." She said still caressing the little girl's back. They had moved out of the bathroom and we're talking quietly as Simon straightened up the toys that scattered the bedroom carpet. The soothing voice of her parents had caused the already sleepy little girl's eyes to slowly drift closed as she burrowed deeper into the familiar warmth and scent of her mother.

Simon kissed his daughter goodnight, before walking out of the room and heading downstairs.

CJ relished in the ritual of putting Emma to bed; it was their customary time together. CJ had once told him that on stressful days, she looked forward to the time; a means to getting through the day knowing that there was something special, just for her, at the end of it. When CJ was forced to stay late at work, often she would come into Emma's room and just watch the sleeping child. Simon sometimes suspected it was in those moments, that CJ was able to leave the politicking behind, to remind her of a greater purpose.

In the morning, though, CJ and Simon shared the responsibilities. Emma was an early riser, but if CJ dragged herself out of bed by 5:00 she normally had enough time to work out for forty minutes and jump into the shower, before the girl awoke. While in the shower, Emma would wonder sleeply, clutching her worn bear 'Tedz,' into her parent's room, half asleep, and climb into the spot CJ vacated earlier cuddled up next to her daddy. Having dressed and dried her hair, CJ would emerge from the bathroom to wake those still asleep in the bed, often though spending a moment watching them. She would lazily awaken the two. Simon who was often half awake, he claimed since the moment she first got out of bed, would carry Emma into her room, to get her dressed. CJ would finish getting ready for the day, before heading downstairs to start breakfast. Putting the wheat bread in the toaster, she would pour herself a cup of coffee before heading to the front door to grab the morning papers. Simon would bring Emma down and deposit her at the table, before running upstairs and taking a quick shower; he never took more than fifteen minutes. CJ accounted it to the military showers he had been accustomed to earlier in life; nonetheless, the three of them were sitting at the table by 6:20 at the latest. CJ left Emma in Simon's care as she ran out the door at quarter to seven. Simon would wait for Ida, their nanny and housekeeper, to arrive before heading out for his commute himself, arriving at work before eight.

Somewhere along the lines the priorities had shifted in the White House. The ideals of the administration hadn't changed, at least since the last time CJ had checked, but the people slowly had. They had realized that there was more to life than work and while they were good at their jobs, the hours worked waned. It still wasn't a nine-to-five job, but slowly the staff started leaving earlier. First eleven o'clock then ten; now, CJ habitually left around seven, seven-thirty and so did several members of the senior staff. CJ accounted it to Debbie, the President's secretary, as throughout the last four years, she had gotten the President himself to leave earlier and earlier. Abbey probably had some hand in it too, CJ had speculated. Now CJ worked 11 hour days, with a hour long break for lunch with her daughter, which she made up for with an hour or two of work once she got home, but it was a lot better than the eighteen, nineteen hour days of the first term.

As CJ set the content child down on the bed, the little girl's eyes flicked open. "Mommy, a story?" CJ knew the girl, just didn't want her to leave and in truth she didn't want to.

"Sure Angel." She turned on the lamp by the bed, before turning out the overhead light and shredding her suit jacket. Picking up the book of stories on the nightstand she sat down on the bed, the little girl snuggled closer. CJ began reading softly, her voice completely different from anything she used in the pressroom.

Forty minutes, three stories, two good night kisses, and a glass of water later CJ softly shut Emma's door with a sigh. After changing out of her work clothes, CJ walked into the kitchen where Simon was sitting, work spread out across the table. She wrapped her arms around Simon's shoulders and nuzzled her face against his neck, laying a line of kisses up the soft flesh. "I missed you." She softly sighed.

"And I missed you, too"

"Yeah, but you were gone all weekend and us girls had to spend the weekend alone." CJ said pouting.

"Well we can't have that, can we?" Simon said kissing her

"It's my boss, I just don't know how to tell the leader of the free-world that he should stay home, so my husband can too." CJ said smiling.

"If Bartlet hadn't been scheduled for eight cities in three days… we'll I could have spent the weekend cleaning gutters and repainting Emma's playhouse." They both knew though that even if Simon had been home he still probably wouldn't have gotten to it. He was joking with her, the continuation of a tension that had become apparent in the first months of their dating. How they got through those months of campaigning CJ and Simon still didn't know.

While the had long ago agreed that because of their respective jobs they had empathy for the other, particularly from the first hand knowledge gleamed from the four weeks that Simon had headed CJ's own protection detail, there was a huge downside; their jobs often clashed as politics and protection were like oil and water. And while they tried not to bring it home or make it personal sometimes, especially in the beginning they had. It first came to a head seven weeks after they had started dating.

_The navy blue Bartlet for America bus, pulled into the town square of a small Minnesota city. Bartlet bounded out of the bus and began pressing the flesh of the numerous surprised voters mingling in the couple blocks of the small downtown. _

_CJ stepped off the bus following the President and spoke to a troupe of reporters who were traveling on this stretch of campaign. CJ was here because the President and the media were, Sam on the other hand had lost a bet with the President and this was his punishment. Sam, though, was currently sitting on the air conditioned bus, talking strategy with Josh on the phone. After joking with the gathered press for a minute, she stepped under the shade of a tree and watched the President do what he did best._

"_Damn it, CJ." She turned to find a familiar face wearing a not so familiar expression._

"_What are you so cranky about today?" CJ asked Simon. _

"_We've been of the road less than two and a half hours and you guys are already on your fourth OTR," an off the record stop, Simon said coming up next to CJ._

"_Simon" CJ asked, "what do you think I do, sit on the bus looking out the window and contemplate the best way to spite you today?"_

"_Of course not, but I also know who is in charge of media and campaign strategy." Only two weeks before Simon had taken CJ out to dinner as a semi-celebration, Bartlet's approvals had gone up after Bruno had decided to adopt a campaign strategy drafted by CJ. Simon using it against her hurt more than she would admit._

"_Yes, my job is not just to feed stories to the press, but to affect the public's perception and I'm pretty good at it." CJ said defensively._

"_We can't control these stops," Simon said. "For all we know there could be a crazed lunatic in this town with access to a gun. All it takes is one."_

"_Unplanned or not there can be crazed lunatics," she said remembering Rosslyn. "And if you had your way, you would bring the President out once a year in a bullet proof capsule to show the public that he is alive before taking him back into the security of the White House."_

"_And if that had been the case, Rosslyn would never have happened." Simon said._

_CJ countered, "If racism didn't exist in this country Rosslyn would never have happened." _

"_And if you could have your way everyday he'd be out shaking hands with every tourist on Pennsylvania Avenue for an hour." Simon retorted, disdain in his voice._

"_And we would win the election in a heartbeat." CJ stated her gaze watching the President as he interacted with the town's citizenry._

_Softly in retort Simon said, "And if you did the President would be dead in a week." And there was silence._

_CJ who had looked away at Simon's comment, slowly turned to look at him. "I'm sorry if doing my job hinders you from doing yours and wrapping him up in a cocoon of protection." CJ said sincerely. "But my job is getting him re-elected and this," she gestured at the scene before them, "is going to be what it takes."_

_Simon watched the President, his eyes skimming the now assembled crowd. After several seconds of silence, "I know. I'm sorry, campaigning in general and OTRs in particular are very stressful for the team."_

"_One way or another it'll all be over in six weeks."_

"_Yeah," Simon said. They both stood silently next to each other. Pressing his hand to his ear, Simon listened intently for a moment. "They're heading back."_

"_Okay," CJ said taking a step towards the bus._

_Simon reached out and caught her hand, stopping her. "CJ," he called softly, her head turning to look at him._

"_There was an incident on the Ritchi campaign about thirty-five minutes ago. It's not for the press, we want to keep it in house at least until after it has been investigated, but it just has me," he paused correcting himself, "us, on high alert."_

_CJ didn't say anything, but lightly squeezed his hand and gave him an understanding smile._

_She went to release his hand, but he held on. "And CJ?" she nodded. "You're doing a good job." Her smile radiated across her face._

They didn't make anymore unscheduled stops, at least that day. They worked through it, they always worked through it, and CJ hoped they always would. Placing another kiss to his jaw line, she stood up releasing his shoulders and walked into the foyer to retrieve her bag and the work that filled it.

"So I heard back from Mr. Henderson on the parole board, about three o'clock." She said over her shoulder as she grabbed a diet coke from the fridge and returned to sit down in the chair next to him.

"He said and I quote," her good mood was an already dead give away for the outcome of the conversation. "'The Parole Board does not feel that Mr. Davis has met the necessary requirements for parole at this time and we have decided to reject his application."

"And you doubted me when I said it would never be granted?" Simon asked rhetorically, shutting the folder. "We should be celebrating; you should be drinking something more festive."

"Diet Coke's good." She said simply, clearly something was on her mind.

"If you think so," Simon said. Knowing that without any prodding CJ would discuss whatever it was in her own time. He turned back to the personal files he had been reviewing.

"It's not hypocritical of me, is it?" CJ asked Simon in a quiet voice he had to strain to hear. "I mean I wouldn't have you or Emma if it wasn't for him? And yet I would be content if he sat in prison for his entire sentence and then some." She looked at the soda can on the table twirling it back and forth in her fingers.

Simon thought about his answer for a moment. They had had this discussion several times in the past. Setting down the file he had been reviewing, he turned to his wife. "Yes, while indirectly he did have some impact on your life that is to be expected. Everyone impacts our lives, but we – you and I – CJ, we were the ones who decided to date, we decided to try this out, and we got pregnant with Emma." He watched her body language to make sure she was listening. "There is no way to know if it wouldn't have happened had you not been receiving threats. But at the moment Mr. Davis is still a tiny threat, by his own choice, and I will do everything in my power to prevent him from harming my family. Understand?" He said, tipping her chin up and turning her face slightly so she was forced to meet his eyes. She slowly nodded her head "And even if you had written a glowing review of him to the parole board today, his behavior speaks much louder than any words you could have written in his defense. Okay?"

CJ resembled Emma earlier in the day as she looked at him. "Okay," she finally said, but CJ still harbored guilt in the depths of her heart. Simon knew there was more going on in the head of hers, but CJ did things in her own time. So when it was clear the discussion was finished, Simon picked up the file again.

Simon was her rock, he had proved it time and time again and CJ had no reason to question him. It was nice to be able to have someone to help you home when you needed it; to come home at the end of the day and not have to pretend you were strong. Behind the doors of their home, surrounded in Simon's arms, she could confide the fears buried within her heart. It was nice, she admitted, to have someone to share the good and the bad with.


	3. Chapter 3

**Title: Home**

**Author: Novi T. Foxtrot - N123TF**

**Fandom: The West Wing**

**Parings: CJ/Simon**

**Set: implied season 6/7, but AU…**

**Disclaimer: Character rights belong to Warner Bros. Entertainment, Inc. and John Wells Productions. **

**CHAPTER 3**

"What'd you bring home with you tonight?" Simon asked, the reports she read nightly always seemed to amuse him.

CJ smiled faintly. "Carol was able to procure an early copy of the FDA's report on the new Alzheimer's drug."

"You know the drug your dad was on does a lot of good for a lot of people." Simon said.

"I know." CJ acknowledged. "But it doesn't change that it was the catalyst in it all. I just miss him. I miss him everyday and today was especially hard."

"You seemed fine when I saw you. Who did what to ruin it? I could arrange something; I've got connection you know." Simon said, hoping to elicit a smile.

He was successful, CJ smiled. "I spent the afternoon running interference between Josh and the President for Leo. Josh wants us to come out against this referendum on the ballot in Oregon so the Senator won't get burned by the press when he speaks out against it tomorrow."

"What's the referendum on?" Simon asked curiously.

"It would reverse their law on assisted suicide, making it illegal." CJ clarified.

"So you're saying in other words is that your afternoon sucked. I'm sorry, Honey." Simon said. "What was your recommendation?"

"That this is a personal decision that needs to be made by the families, and has no business of the state or federal government." CJ said. "I told him if commenting on it would sway opinion to allow it to remain the family's choice he should speak up. I told him if he didn't, I probably would. No longer being the face of the administration does have its benefits. Plus I have a better parking spot." CJ turned back to the report in front of her, but her mind went somewhere else, to the past, to a time she tried not to think about.

Simon sat, scrunched in next to CJ, numerous empty glass lay scattered around the table, his arm pulling her close in an effort to create more room for the other people in their booth at the back of the 17th Street bar on a late Friday night in November. He looked to the people sitting around the table, engrossed in debate. These were CJ's friends; an exclusive club formed through an alliance of success and tragedy, rocked by scandal and gunshots, he felt like an intruder in an inner circle.

He had been in and out of details located at the White House over the three and a half years that this group had occupied the building, even before heading CJ's detail he had known who they were by name and sight. During that time he had been able to observe them in their natural environment, but even then he didn't truly realize the depth to the bonds of friendship that this group shared.

He thanked God that the election had gone in their favor. While he was a democrat, as most of the Secret Service was, and was genuinely glad that President Bartlet had been re-elected, he didn't think CJ could cope with losing this group of people.

"Simon," CJ whispered in his ear. "What do you say we get out of here?" Her breath warm against the side of his neck, trailing down under his shirt collar.

A smile crept across his face, "okay." He turned to look at her, planning on giving her a short kiss. Instead as he looked at her, he grew a bit concerned. "You feeling okay, you're not looking so hot around the gills?" He said. While the words were of a joking nature, his voice was filled with concern and worry.

"I'm fine." CJ said dismissively. Fine my ass, Simon thought.

Turning to the rest of the group, Simon spoke, "CJ's not feeling too well. I think we're going to call it a night." Sam who was sitting next to him at the end of the booth stood up allowing them the ability to scoot out of the bench.

The group wished them both a good night, and that they hoped CJ felt better. CJ told them all she would see them late the next morning, a Saturday, as Simon helped her put on her wool jacket. He wrapped her red scarf around her neck, before grabbing his own coat.

At their announcement that they were leaving, several of the others decided it too, was time to head home.

They walked as a group towards the door. The cold late November air swept into the bar as the door was opened.

As they walked down the sidewalk, the sound of Andi and Amy could be heard still deep in debate. Josh and Toby both stood in proximity watching the exchange.

Simon held open the door to the car so CJ could climb in, before walking around to the driver's side.

"It's Friday; your place or mine?" Simon asked as he started the car, turning the heat on full blast. Simon lived in Maryland out of the District and CJ's apartment was located in North Dupont, between Embassy Row and Rock Creek Park, ten minutes away. Since the election they had developed the routine of spending the week at her place as they got an extra forty minutes to sleep or engage in other occupying activities, in the time they would have spent sitting in traffic. They normally reserved going out to his place for on the weekends; a brief retreat from the world. He wouldn't mind just going back to her place if CJ really wasn't feeling well, which he believed to be the case. After all she didn't have a sip of alcohol during the hour and a half they had spent at the bar; choosing instead to drink her preferred diet coke.

"Would you mind if we went back to mine? We can go to your place tomorrow night. I just really would like to sleep in my bed tonight."

Simon placed the car in drive before picking up her hand. He smiled at her, "Your wish is my command."

Simon kept glancing over at CJ as he drove and with each glance CJ appeared to be looking worse. CJ's head rested against the head rest, her breathing controlled, and her eyes closed. He turned onto the alley behind CJ's apartment building and pulled into CJ's parking spot. She had left her car at work and had commuted to the bar with him.

Having placed the car in park and turning off the engine, he expected CJ to open her eyes. After watching her for a moment, he reached up and softly touched her flushed cheek. He called her name as softly as he caressed her cheek. Slowly her eyes opened. "We're home." He said in a whisper.

CJ lowly looked around trying to discern her surroundings. She nodded slightly. In the time it took to unbuckle her seat belt and grab her bag in front of her Simon had come around and opened her door. "God, it is cold out." She remarked as the blistery air curled itself around her legs. Taking her bag from her, he held her hand in his other, leading the way into the building.

Simon pushed open the condo's door after unlocking it with his key.

He had returned the key at the end of the detail. While CJ had insisted that he keep it, he had been adamant that she take it back. When they had decided to date; he felt it was important that they adjusted to the new direction of their relationship. A couple weeks had passed, and on this morning CJ had reluctantly gotten out of bed at five forty-five, them both only having gone to bed hours before.

Simon not having to be at work until a decent hour had slept as CJ got ready for her day. As he lay half asleep in bed, CJ had come in to kiss him goodbye. "I left you something on the counter. Lock the door on your way out," she had whispered as she nibbled on his ear in an effort to wake him.

"Okay, just you know keep doing that." Simon had mumbled. Had he been more awake he would have realized he had no way to lock the door, but he was understandably distracted.

"I have to go to work. There's coffee in the kitchen," she had said kissing him on the lips before wishing him a good day.

Grumbling he had watched her retreat through the bedroom door, her heels growing quieter on the hardwood floors. He heard her fumbling with her keys, before the sounds of the door opening and shutting, the lock turning before sliding into place. It had still been dark out, the only light filtered through from the hallway. Knowing he was now awake, he grudgingly pushed himself out of bed, waking barefoot into the kitchen to get a cup of coffee that CJ had brewed for herself earlier, thoughtfully leaving him a cup or two. It wasn't until he had coffee in hand that he remembered what CJ had said, looking around he spotted an envelope on the counter. He opened it and pulled out a copy of her personalized stationary and with it the sound of metal hitting the counter.

CJ had gone into work briefly on Saturday and worked from Simon's home on Sunday. They had spent the morning lazily in bed, she read nearly the entire New York Times and Washington Post, skipping the Sports sections, but saving them for Simon who was doing the Times' crossword. It had been nice him calling out those clues that stumped him, and she had been dully impressed that Simon had been able to complete the Sunday Crossword and had told him so. Simon shrugged off her praise; he had completed many while he had down time in the military and on the numerous trips required for his job, somewhere along the line he had gotten good at them. Monday even being Monday could not diminish CJ's high spirits. Simon and she were going away for the Thanksgiving weekend, just the two of them. A well deserved break after winning the campaign she had justified. But she felt a little guilty that she wouldn't be seeing her family and Simon's mom had expressed a desire to meet the girl who Simon couldn't stop talking about; Christmas she had proposed.

Tuesday though had been one of those days that CJ knew was going to go bad. They begin badly and end badly and in between beginning and ending nothing good happens. CJ's first indicator was that Simon hadn't been in bed when the alarm had gone off. Content to get five more minutes of sleep, she turned to cuddle into Simon's chest. Finding his half of the bed empty CJ vaguely remembered a cell phone ringing in the middle of the night. Thankful it wasn't her phone, she had burrowed back into the sheets, as Simon had gotten out of bed speaking in hushed tones.

Now she sat at her desk, cursing the reporters who were making her job difficult. Really, she admonished, the honeymoon period from re-election should last longer than three weeks, it should last through Thanksgiving at least, even Christmas and inauguration. CJ was currently skimming the notes Carol had made in preparation for her briefing in fifteen minutes. Even though the holiday would begin in less than twenty-four hours the President's schedule, and by proxy her's as well, was packed solid.

CJ still hadn't talked with Simon yet today, a rarity. She glanced at her watch, before standing up. Leaning slightly over the desk in an effort to cram the last minute facts into her consciousness, CJ swung her chair around and grabbed her pale blazer before shrugging into it. She pushed her feet into a pair of heels, that didn't match her outfit at all. But thankful at least that she had left these brown ones at the office the week before; her feet had been soaked as she had to step into a puddle to climb into her car. There was a freezing cold lake under her car, and the heat in her car wouldn't crank any higher than sixty. Meaning she would have to send her car to the shop, she would need heat for the winter that was already setting in and she could just imagine the bill that would result.

Carol had just come back from giving the two minute warning to the munchkins who called themselves the Press Corps. Carol threw another sheet of paper at CJ, who was on her way out the door, as she rushed to pick up the ringing phone. "White House Press Office," Carol answered. CJ stopped and looked at her, making sure it was nothing that would affect the briefing. Carol shooed her out the door, telling her she would be in momentarily. "She is unavailable at the moment, can I take a message?" CJ heard as she hurried out the door.

She briefed the press, falling into a rhythm with each question, ending the question session with something to be thankful for, as she had done at every briefing of this Thanksgiving week. "It's thirty-five degrees outside and the temperature is dropping. I am thankful for the seventy six degree weather in the Bahamas, unlike the twenty-seven degree weather for those of you heading out with the first family to Manchester. Don't forget to bundle up." The press corps groaned at her, a couple people thanking her as she stepped down from the podium.

She had glanced over a couple of times during the briefing and Carol had never shown up instead half way through an intern had taken her customary spot. Thus she was a little surprised when Carol was standing waiting for her as she left the briefing room. CJ rattled off a list of things that needed to be done, all a result of the briefing.

"Okay," Carol said as they reached the outer office. "Umm, CJ?" Carol didn't know how to begin. "Simon's here, he's umm, he's in your office."

Carol felt a twinge of guilt as a smile broke out on CJ's face. "Can you tell Toby that I need to see him about HR forty-two, sixty-seven when he gets a minute and Josh needs to be given a heads up that we may have lost some votes."

"No problem." Carol would make the calls, but she knew that CJ wouldn't have time to meet with them. Carol had been busy canceling CJ's appointments during the afternoon briefing. After taking the call as CJ hurried off, she had spoken briefly with the caller before hanging up. After taking a deep breath Carol had picked up the phone and dialed a now familiar number; Simon's cell phone.

CJ walked into her office. Simon stood next to Gail's bowl, watching her swim lazily. Hearing CJ he stood up and turned to look at her.

"This is a surprise. I didn't get to see you this morning before work?" CJ asked, giving him a light kiss hello.

"Yeah, I had to go in and deal with a thing, but it's taken care of." He walked over to the door and shut it lightly, twisting the blinds closed on his way towards CJ.

"Come here." He told CJ, who had sat down in her chair.

"I know I'm good at making out, but I'm also a busy girl. I've got to get my work done if they're going to release me from this prison to go on vacation." CJ joked as she moved around her desk towards him.

"CJ," Simon called softly, his tone urgent. CJ glanced up at him, startled when Simon softly took her hand. "Carol called me earlier. She got a phone call, and she didn't know how to tell you."

There was confusion on her face, there was worry. "Hogan? Is everything okay with Hogan?"

"She's fine. Hogan's fine," Simon said trying to reassure CJ's worry, "but Molly called." CJ waited knowing that the next words coming out of Simon's mouth would not be good. "She went to the grocery store this morning and when she came home she found your dad unconscious on the floor, he wasn't breathing, CJ." He looked at her before continuing, "They rushed him to the hospital a couple hours ago. I talked to Molly, she's pretty upset. She said he hasn't woken up yet."

Simon was aware that CJ hadn't taken a breath. Slowly he watched as a tear pooled and slowly ran down her cheek. He reached up to brush the tear away, murmuring that everything would be alright. In front of him, he saw CJ's world falling apart. He pulled her to him, and let her know that she could let it all out. That he would be here for her, every step. Carol watched from the outer office through the blinds, before picking up the phone to call the White House Travel Office, telling them she needed two tickets to Dayton, Ohio and to bill it to CJ's personal account.

After CJ had composed herself, Simon told her to collect her things, and he went to find Toby, her best friend the one other person she could depend whole heartedly on: he would take care of everything Simon couldn't. Later as Simon led CJ out of the West Wing to his car so they could go home and pack, Toby stood in the hallway. Simon saw Toby catch CJ's eye and Toby place a closed hand to his heart. CJ smiled weakly, sorrow filled her eyes.

CJ held Simon's hand the entire flight as she watched out the window of the small regional jet as they took off from National Airport. The lighted limestone and marble of the monuments and famous buildings cut through the rain and snow mix that was still falling. They flew higher leaving the city behind as they entered the thick clouds. For a long while CJ could not see anything but gray haze out the window. During the ninety minute flight CJ fell in and out of sleep, dreaming of when she was a girl; of barbeques in the backyard and Christmas long past, how her father threatened to flunk her prom date, and the first summer she had come home to her father's waiting arms from college; times before the Alzheimer's had started to set in and times when her mother was present at his side. She didn't notice the flight attendant coming by to ask Simon if everything was alright, she didn't hear his response "that he prayed it would be."

Only the jarring of the plane as it came to a slow stop on the runway, before making a turn and heading toward Concourse C at Dayton International Airport, pulled CJ out of the restless slumber. They departed the plane and Simon handled the paperwork for the rental car. CJ said nothing on the drive to the hospital.

As CJ walked into the hospital, hand in hand with Simon, the confident women returned. She allowed herself to be broken in front of Simon, for that he felt honored, but she wasn't going to allow the rest of the world even her stepmother to see her weak.

"Molly," CJ called to the women as they departed the elevator on the sixth floor of the Miami Valley Hospital. "How's my father?" She asked as they came up next to her. Simon briefly let go of her hand, as CJ went to hug the older woman.

"Stable. That is at least what the doctor's say. He still hasn't woken up, but they've sent Tal for a bunch of tests, so we should know more in a little while"

"Alright than, we wait." CJ said. "You remember Simon?" CJ said as a way of introduction. "You met him when you and dad came down to the rally in Cincinnati during the campaign."

"Yes. Tal tells me about you after he gets off the phone with CJ sometimes. It's nice to meet you again." In truth she was a little surprised that Simon had accompanied CJ to Ohio. CJ'd always been an independent girl; Molly remembered having her in eleventh grade English as if it were yesterday.

"Where's Libby?" CJ asked looking down the hall.

"They left yesterday for Jeff's parents. Her in-laws were claiming they hadn't seen Henry, my grandbaby" Molly clarified for Simon's benefit, "in too long. Libby said they could come back, but that's just ridiculous, everything is okay here I told her."

"Well it looks like it's the three of us then." CJ said.

"We should probably sit and wait, it could be a while still before we hear anything." The three of them sat down and CJ unconsciously found Simon's hand, nobody said anything.

Eventually a doctor came out and they all stood. "Mrs. Cregg," he addressed Molly, she didn't correct him; Mrs. Cregg was Tal's first wife she'd always said and her students for the last forty years had known her only as Mrs. Lapham and Molly didn't feel compelled to change it.

He turned towards CJ and Simon an unspoken question as to their identity. "I'm CJ, Tal's daughter." She said. "We just arrived from Washington."

The doctor shook their hands, "I don't know what you've been told. But we think that he experienced a side effect from his Alzheimer's medication Aricept." Molly nodded indicating that he was indeed on the medication. "It possible the medication caused him to go into convulsions, which would explain the electrolyte imbalance in his blood levels, and during this we believe he experienced a severe head injury, most probably from a table or the floor. The internal bleeding has stopped and we have relieved the pressure on his brain, but he is currently still in an unconscious state."

Molly knew all this already. She broken in, "but how is my husband now. He will wake up. Won't he?" CJ reached out with her free hand and grasped Molly's, who was slowly cracking before them.

"It's possible that he may wake up momentarily or he may stay unconscious for a couple weeks, there is no way to know," the doctor answered. "On the Glasgow Coma Scale which measures his eye, verbal and motor responses, he was rated a six out of fifteen. Anything under eight is classified as severe. Fifteen is a fully awake person. But we won't classify it as a coma, until the rest of the tests come back and we give him another several hours to see if he comes out of this on his own."

Molly overwhelmed by the news sat down. CJ held Simon's hand, as the doctor spoke her grip became tighter and tighter as if it was the only lifeline to the world.

"He is hooked up to an EEG machine, which tracks his brain activity, and I want to assure you that his brain is functioning, which is a good sign." He tried to comfort the patient's wife. "Now it is a wait-and-see game. Do you have any questions?"

"You mentioned other tests?" CJ asked.

The doctor turned towards CJ. "The CT-scan is going to be important in determining the scope of the damage. But we are really curious as to the outcomes of his blood tests; we want to confirm that it was Aricept and not something else that was the cause."

"Okay." CJ's attention was focused on Molly. "When he wakes up what are we going to be dealing with?"

"Most recoveries usually occur gradually, with patients acquiring more and more ability to respond. The combination of physical, intellectual and psychological difficulties are going to depend on the location, severity and extent of the neurological damage, which we'll know more about it with the CT results, but the full prognosis won't be known until he has woken up."

"Anything else?" The doctor asked. The three shook their heads. The doctor departed, after pointing them to the nursing station to see about visitation.

CJ sent a glance down to Molly, who sat head in her hands. "I think I should call Libby, let her know. She should probably come back. Molly is going to need someone right now."

Simon awkwardly sat down as CJ walked towards the elevators, having dismissed Simon's concern. As the door closed, she saw Simon lay a reassuring hand on her stepmother's shoulder.

Alone in the elevator car CJ squeezed her eyes closed, trying to stop the tears from pooling. Walking outside she took several deep breathes, before pulling her cell phone out of her purse and turning it on. She flipped through her phonebook, until she found her stepsister's number. "Libby?" She asked when the phone was answered. "It's CJ. I'm at the hospital in Dayton. Things don't look good and I think your mom's going to need you. How long 'til you can get here?" CJ asked. "Okay, we'll see you tomorrow then."

CJ disconnected the line. She hit Toby's number on speed dial before she could stop herself. She watched the screen showing it was connecting the call. As the seconds ticked up, she contemplated closing the phone. Sighing, she lifted the phone to her ear. "Yeah Toby, it's me. No it's not good; he still hasn't woken up yet. I'll call when I know more, but I need to get back inside. Okay. Okay. Tell the President and First Lady that I am thankful for their prayers. Yeah." CJ's voice wavered slightly. CJ waited a beat. "Toby," she said, "thanks."

"Anytime," Toby replied. "Just focus on your family CJ, we'll take care of everything at work. Okay?" CJ thanked him again and hung up the phone.

Returning to the floor she was directed into a room, where she found Molly holding Tal's hand, sitting in a chair next to the bed. Simon stood against a wall at the foot of the bed and CJ scooted in next to him, he wrapped an arm around her, letting her head rest against his shoulder.

The clock now read one in the morning. "Molly," CJ called softly, "why don't you head home, get some sleep, and something to eat. I'll stay with him for a while."

Molly protested, but CJ assured her she would call if there were any changes. Simon kissed CJ lightly before escorting Molly out the door, insisting that he would drive her home and return shortly.

After they left CJ took up residence in the chair that Molly had vacated. Time passed slowly, the tick of the clock on the wall, the whoosh of the ventilator, the beat of the heart monitor, formed a rhythm, a symphony of bereavement. Eventually it overwhelmed her, she wanted it to stop, she wanted to wake up and be at home in bed, cuddled against Simon trying to stave off the snow falling outside. She wanted to be packing for the Bahamas. She wanted to be anywhere but here. "I'll be back Daddy." CJ said kissing his cheek gently before standing and leaving the room.

When Simon returned to the hospital an hour and a half after he had left, he found Tal's room empty and was directed by the nurse to try the ward one floor down. "CJ went to find the coffee machine." She explained. He breathed a sigh of relief when she spotted CJ. She stood in the maternity ward at the window watching the newborn infants sleep. He slid up behind her wrapping his hands around her middle, and pulling her back into him.

CJ closed her eyes, content for the familiar presence, letting her fears slide away. Her arms, which had been crossed defensively under her breasts, slid down to wrap around Simon's as she relaxed. CJ didn't know how long she had been standing there before Simon returned. "Do you ever think about having kids?" She asked.

"I was dating a union rep when I was on the Chicago Police force, we talked about marriage and family, but I transferred to the secret service and things just sort of fell apart. I don't think I was serious enough with anyone since to give it much thought." Simon explained, he felt CJ stiffen. "You know it was because of her that I joined the Secret Service?" Simon felt CJ's head nod no against him. Trying to get CJ's mind off what was occurring downstairs and in her world, knowing that was what this conversation was about, he embarked on the story.

"It was 1991, must have been July and July's are bad in Chicago, but it was brutal in DC." Simon explained. "Alex, the girl I was dating, was involved in some sort of contract negotiation with the people at corporate, she had insisted I come along. I had been stranded alone in her apartment all day, but we had plans to meet for drinks before dinner at this place known as The Brew that no longer exists in Foggy Bottom."

_Simon felt relief the moment he stepped inside the darkened, and more importantly air conditioned bar. Glancing around he didn't spot Alex and instead made his way towards a seat at the bar. "What do you have in the way of microbrews?" Simon asked when the bartender made his way over to him._

"_We have a nitrogen tapped Scottish ale. If you're looking for something not as heavy we have a good harvest ale out of an up and coming place in Seattle." The bartender said, setting a coaster down on the shined wood bar top. _

_Simon smiled. He always preferred the creaminess added by the nitrogen and ordered the former. Arriving Simon took the first sip; the thick foam of the head tantalized his palette before the smooth, intense flavor of chocolate, and black barley met his tongue._

_His hand wrapped loosely around the deep copper liquid, which was now half empty, he once again glanced to the door as he heard the bell signaling the door opening._

"_You meeting someone?" The man sitting to his left asked._

"_Yeah, I ah.." Simon answered, not quite sure who the man sitting next to him was. _

"_You just keep looking over at the door every time it opens." His bar mate said in explanation._

"_My girlfriend, she's a bit late. She probably got held up at work." Simon answered simply. "You waiting on someone?" Simon took the opportunity to size the man up. 6'4" Simon mussed, lanky but the man definitely worked out. He held an air of confidence, not in the pretentious, elitist fashion that most of DC held itself in._

'_No, just a tough day at work." The man said. "My name is Ron by the way." He held out his hand._

"_Simon." He said gripping the other man's hand. "So what sort of work do you do?'_

"_US Treasury Department." Ron said. "You?"_

"_I'm with the Chicago PD."_

"_What's a man with the Chicago PD doing waiting for his girlfriend at a bar in Washington?" Ron asked trying to piece the puzzle together in front of him. He didn't like it when things didn't add up._

"_She's a Union rep. The union she represents is in Chicago, the corporation is headquartered here. They are in negations for a new contact, I swear she spends half the year in this damn city, but whenever I come for the weekend, I still never see her. Sometimes I wonder…" Simon faded off. "Case in point, she was supposed to be here thirty-five minutes ago."_

_The guy seemed like a straight shot. "You know Nicholas DiGiovanni?"_

"_Yeah, sure. He heads the 23rd district. How do you know Nico?" Simon asked curious about his connection to this man._

"_I met him when I was in Chicago on business a couple years back. We talk every once and again. How's his wife and girls?" Ron asked making the professed pleasantries._

"_Good, they were all out at the department picnic a couple weeks ago." Simon said. "So would it be fair of me to surmount that you're with the protective side of The Treasury's duties and not the money management?"_

"_If not fair, than accurate," Ron said his lips upturning ever so slightly. Noticing Simon's now empty glass he asked, "Can I buy you another beer?"_

_Simon looked at his watch, glanced at the door and said, "Why not? Alex probably got held up in a meeting."_

_Ron motioned to the bartender, a glass and a half later Simon forgot that Alex still hadn't arrived._

"So Ron convinced me, and it wasn't that hard mind you as working a beat wasn't really my thing, to take the entrance exams. With my history I was almost guaranteed a job and the starting salary was considerably higher than what I had been making. Next thing I knew he was setting me up to rent an apartment from an agent who was transferring to the West Coast and recommending dry cleaners."

"What was he like fifteen years ago?" CJ asked.

"He had hair, but same old Ron." Simon said.

"We're he and Marcy married then?" They had been invited over several times in the last couple months for dinner and CJ found the women pleasant enough.

"Yeah and they had already had their son by that point. I think Ron was in that bar, because he had a motto, to never take the work home with him." Simon explained. "Ron, he'd had a really crappy day if I remember right, but he was adamant that even on the worst day he wouldn't have wanted to be anywhere else. I think that was wahat, above anything else, convinced me to take the job offer"

"Do you think that; that even on the worst day there is nothing else you would want to be doing?" CJ asked curiously.

"I showed up the day after Rosslyn, didn't I." Simon replied.

"But there isn't anything else you would rather do? Nothing else you want out of life?" CJ asked.

"I'm pretty content at the moment." He said, holding CJ a little bit tighter. "What about you?"

"Working for the President is great, it's probably the most important thing I'll ever do. The most difference I'll make." CJ said. "But sometimes," she trailed off, watching the babies through the glass.

"Sometimes what?" Simon prodded.

"Sometimes I wonder if that's enough. My dad he taught high school advanced trig and calculus for thirty two years and junior high math for eight before that. He had four kids and went fly fishing on the weekends. And I've spent the last year worrying how to count to 270." CJ explained.

"No CJ." Simon said, "You've worried how to make a better world for those babies in there."

CJ didn't say anything, the two of them just standing there.

"You didn't answer my question though?" Simon didn't say anything, so CJ clarified. "Do you want kids? I mean you're pretty good with Anthony." Inside CJ was a ball of nerves, waiting for his answer. Sh still didn't know what she was going to do.

"I don't think I would be that good at it. I try with Anthony. My dad died when I was a kid and I could have really used the male guidance."

"You know Toby. His dad was gone most of his life and he is terrified of not being able to love his kids. But his ex-wife is pregnant with their twins and you would think that they had just called the election in our favor the way he smiles when you mention it. It's actually quite cute." CJ said smiling.

"Gruff Toby?" Simon asked.

"He's not so gruff. More like a teddy bear if you ask me." CJ joked.

They fell into comfortable silence. "I like having something more to come home to." Simon finally said.

"Is that so?" CJ asked, smiling. Now wasn't the time to tell him, but she would she promised herself.

"It is."

A minute of silence passed between them.

"Simon?" CJ called.

"Yeah?" Simon questioned.

"Not now, but when we get home, there is something we need to talk about."

"Oh, okay." Simon said waiting for a hint to the subject, when it didn't come he glanced at CJ's watch. "We should probably head back. It's nearly four."

"My brother, Greg, was going to drive up with the two kids for Thanksgiving; maybe I should call and tell him not to bring the kids." CJ said as they re-entered the hospital room.

"Hogan would knock you a new one if you implied that she wasn't old enough to handle this." Simon said.

"Yeah, but her brother is only eleven." CJ explained.

The kids ended up coming, but the normally festive holiday was quiet and somber. With Molly and her brother taking the late afternoon shift at the hospital on Thursday, Simon, CJ and Hogan tried to prepare some sort of traditional meal. Matthew played on his Gameboy in the living room. Libby, Jeff, and Henry said they would come over after Henry woke from his nap.

There would be no turkey, but they dug a package of chicken nuggets reserved for the grandkids out of the fridge and made mashed potatoes and there was stove top stuffing except without the customary celery. There would be a take on green bean casserole, that CJ was cautious about, but Hogan assured her would be delicious and they managed pistachio pudding, so there would be something right with the world at least.

When Greg and Molly entered the house, they returned to the sound of laughter from the kitchen. Peaking in Greg saw his daughter and CJ tag teaming Simon who had green cool whip on his nose. Simon who had an arm around Hogan let go so he could grab CJ around the waist as she passed. He pulled her around so that he could kiss her, before he tickled her sending her into a fit of giggles. To the causal observer they would never know that the world had been turned upside down. Greg and Molly just watched for a moment, before the occupants of the room realized their presence and it sent them all crashing back to reality.

They all gathered around the table and ate; no one acknowledged the empty seat they had left at the head of the table. Instead Molly was asking Matthew about school and his friends and what he liked to do for fun. Hogan was being interrogated about which colleges she was applying to and the boyfriend she claimed not to have. Before long Simon and CJ left for their shift at the hospital not wanting to leave Tal alone long.

Sitting in the hospital room they both remained quiet. They were planning on staying at least through Sunday and CJ had the leave if she wanted to take it to stay on past then. But there was going to be a family discussion on Saturday evening before Greg left, whether or not CJ planned on staying.

Later that evening Tal's doctor came in to do a routine check on the patient, "I got a shock today," he said as he looked over the chart, "I got a call from a Dr. Bartlet, from Boston Mass General concerning our patient here. You wouldn't know anything about that would you?" He asked.

"Well she's not practicing there, but she does have her medical degree and she is on their board of directors so I don't suppose she was really lying." CJ explained. "Was there anything in particular she wanted?"

"I think she just wanted to make sure that we were giving your father the best care possible." He said. "I assured her we were."

"Damn the two of them." CJ said a bit choked up, more to herself than to Simon or the Doctor.

"I spoke with her, in hypotheticals of course, about your father. I can't breach Doctor-Patient confidentiality without your consent, but if you needed someone to help make sense of all of this, she knows enough to help." The doctor said. "If you want me to talk with her more at length, just let me know."

CJ thanked the doctor and turned towards her father. "Oh, Daddy." Turning to Simon she asked, "What if he doesn't wake up by Saturday night?"

Simon didn't have an answer, only CJ could decide.

The rest of the weekend, entailed time at the hospital and time not. While at her childhood home, CJ worked via her laptop and cell phone and she knew that Simon was keeping an eye on work too, but with the President in Manchester for the weekend and no trips planned for the next week, Simon's advance team was all at home with their respective families. CJ attempted to spend time with her niece and nephew. While she saw Hogan regularly, she didn't see Matty quiet as much. CJ couldn't understand how Claire had just walked away from these two great kids. She knew it ate at Hogan sometimes, and Greg was still trying to make sense of it eight years later, but Matthew had been so young that he didn't really remember his mom. CJ didn't know if that made it better or worse.

On Saturday night, they all gathered in the family room. Matthew had already fallen asleep and long ago been carried to bed. Simon and Hogan were playing some sort of card game in the kitchen. Molly called into the living room asking if anyone wanted tea, finally bringing herself and CJ a cup. After several attempts CJ was successful at getting her two brothers in California on speaker phone concurrently. The entire family present they settled down for what CJ feared would be the hardest conversation of their lives. Everyone was quiet; no one knew where to start.

Although CJ was the youngest, she was in some ways also the strongest and it was she that started. "We have a couple of options," CJ explained. Simon knew CJ had talked it through with Mrs. Bartlet at length that morning.

CJ went on to explain the options. Molly interrupted. "What's going to happen if we do nothing?"

"He could wake up tomorrow or he might never wake up." CJ explained, "And all the while the Alzheimer's is only going to progress."

Greg spoke up. "When I talked to the doctor's yesterday he seemed to indicate that there was decreasing brain activity."

CJ, for the benefit of those who hadn't been there, explained to those on the phone. "There was a lot of progress earlier in the week. Dad came off the respirator on Wednesday evening, but he had to be put back on it yesterday morning as his oxygen count was getting too low."

"So he's getting worse?" asked her oldest brother.

"They think the low oxygen level may be why the activity decreased, but there is no way to know the cause." CJ again explained.

"CJ what do you recommend?" asked Andrew who had remained quiet through the entire conversation.

"I think we let this run its course, but we sign a DNR, a do not resuscitate order." CJ stated. "It means no heroic measures to save him. If his body says enough, I think we let him go. Even if he wakes up he is going to be fighting to both recover from what's happened while fighting the Alzheimer's and Dad wouldn't want that."

"What about the ventilator?" CJ Andrew asked. "I mean wouldn't that be prevented in the DNR?"

"We can ask that he be removed from it, we can specify in the DNR that he be allowed to remain on the respirator, or we can state that once he comes off it he's not go back on it." CJ explained, she had been over the options of the DNR at length with the doctor and a lawyer.

"I think we should leave him on it?" Molly said. "It at least gives him the chance to wake up."

Her oldest brother spoke up, "I just keep wondering what Dad would want. I mean he was a man of great intellect, his mind meant everything to him and even if he woke up he would still slowly be losing it, losing his dignity and dad never would have wanted to go that way."

"We meant everything to him." Andrew said defensively. "Wouldn't he want to spend one more day with us, remembering us, even if it meant ninety-nine crappy ones?"

"Your father wouldn't want to be a burden, he would never ask that of you, even if it meant losing that one last day." Molly said. "Maybe this is a blessing in disguise." The group was quiet; they had come to their decision. CJ was sure that no matter the outward front that Molly put up, she was still blaming herself inside.

The next morning CJ, Greg, and Hogan got dressed and crept out of the house. "You know I never thought I would be sneaking out of the house to go to mass." CJ said once they were in the car. Hogan laughed.

They attended sunrise mass at their childhood parish, the Father asking for God's will and for those in attendance to pray for Tal. Most of the neighborhood had known Tal since before many could remember. "Amen" the congregation said together.

Heading home they changed and picked at breakfast. After they were packed and their bags in the car Greg tried explaining to his son what was about to occur; that they were going to say goodbye before heading home.

"But we always say goodbye to grandpa before we leave." Matthew had said confused.

"This isn't like those times though." Greg hadn't known what to say, so CJ pulled the little boy into her lap "Those goodbyes meant I'll see you later, but right now Grandpa is really sick and he may not wake up, so we need to tell him how much we love him, incase we don't get to again. Okay?"

Matty thought it over for a minute. "Okay," he said before sliding off her lap.

Helping CJ off the couch, Simon gave her a kiss. "You know you're good with them." CJ smiled weakly, tucking Simon's hand into her own as they walked to the rental car and the fate that awaited them.

Two and a half weeks later, Carol had patched through Molly's tearful call. "He's gone," was all she said and CJ with Simon at her side had gone home, to a place that wasn't really home anymore.


	4. Chapter 4

**Title: Home**

**Author: Novi T. Foxtrot - N123TF**

**Fandom: The West Wing**

**Parings: CJ/Simon**

**Set: implied season 6/7, but AU…**

**Disclaimer: Character rights belong to Warner Bros. Entertainment, Inc. and John Wells Productions. **

**CHAPTER 4**

Later that week, Simon walked with CJ through the main foyer of the West Wing and outside into the autumn sun. "Damn I am already late to this lunch thing. When did Ida say they would be here?"

"They probably got stuck in traffic, Honey. Can you wait five more minutes?"

"Even if they show up, we both know Emma's not going to just let me leave." CJ said resigning herself to the fact that she would not only miss taking her daughter to preschool, as was their routine, but that she wouldn't see her at all. CJ was going to need to have a talk with whoever overscheduled her, as soon as she got back from this luncheon.

"You're probably right." Simon said. "I'm sorry though."

"Sure you are. I bet you're not upset at all that you are getting to spend time with her at my expense." CJ smiled at him, confessing, "It's not your fault that I have to attend this luncheon."

"That's right. Place the blame squarely on the sixty year old women who organized it." Simon said, teasing her.

CJ hit his arm lightly. She glanced at her watch. "I really should be leaving."

"What time do you think you'll be home?" Simon inquired knowing that Emma would want to know.

"In a perfect world," CJ paused, "in time to cook dinner. In reality though, I should be home to partake in the bubbly fun of bathtime."

CJ gave a fleeting glance towards Pennsylvania Avenue, before turning back to her husband, "I do need to go. You can tell me the rest when I get home." She leaned in and placed a chaise kiss on his lips. "Thanks for taking her for me and for what it's worth I enjoyed getting to see you at least," a shy smile graced her lips, her eyes twinkling with affection. Simon opened the door, holding it as his wife climbed in.

CJ saw Simon smile through the tented windows as he shut the door. He patted the doorframe of the black, town car twice signaling the driver that he was clear to leave, sending CJ off to lunch at the Mayflower on Connecticut Avenue. He watched as the car pulled out of the gate and across Pennsylvania Avenue, heading out along the west side of Lafayette Park and on its way to Connecticut.

Walking towards the northwest appointment gate, Simon stopped to talk with a fellow agent.

Simon turned when he heard a familiar voice yelling, "Daddy, Daddy, Daddy." A blond haired girl ran toward him, her white shoes leaving tiny footprints in the just watered grass.

"That's my cue to get back to work," said the younger agent as Simon bent down to catch his little girl.

"Well if it is not my Emilyn." Simon said picking her up and swinging her around before hosting her onto his hip.

"Daddy, its Emma." She said placing her hands on her hips, "not Emilyn."

Simon did his best job to look saddened and rebuffed, trying with all his might not to laugh at the stern expression on his little girls face. "Well I guess if," Simon started to say.

Emma stretched up to whisper in his ear. "It's okay Daddy. You can call me Emilyn. Everyone else calls me Emma." She said emphasizing her preferential name.

She gave him a kiss on his cheek prompting Simon to set her down, he grabbed her hand and they started walking. Addressing Emma's nanny Simon thanked her for dropping Emma off for lunch. It had been one of those rare weekends where Simon was heading an entire advance site and hadn't been home. While he loved his job, he hated putting his family second.

"I'll take care of getting her to class, CJ had a lunch meeting." He explained as to why he was taking Emma and not his wife as planned.

"No problème, Monsieur Donovan." The older women answered in response. Why CJ insisted on a French nanny, Simon didn't quite understand. "I'll pick her up after."

"Thanks, I should be home around six." Simon said.

"Merci," she turned to the little girl, "au revoir, Emma."

"Au revoir," said the little girl. The words rolling off her tongue effortlessly. She lifted her hand and waved to her nanny who walked out of the gate.

"So Emma, where to for lunch?""

"Hotdogs?" Emma asked voice filled with enthusiasm. "Outside?"

"What do you say?" Simon prompted.

"Please?" Emma said, tilting her head back and smiling at him.

"Yes, you may." God knows her mother never allows her anything but the semi-vegetarian diet that she had been on since trying to shed her pregnancy weight. It used to drive him nuts. They turned around and walked between the West Wing and the OEOB. Walking hand in hand, it was these moments that Simon loved. Working was great, but time with Emma was something else entirely.

Simon was glad they were drawing near the ellipse, he could tell Emma was getting restless and walking in a straight line was 'boring,' as Emma had explained on an occasion before. As they were already starting to learn this was the threes; 'twos with attitude.' At the moment she was half running along, swinging their clasped hands back and forth and she chatted animatedly about going to the Butterfly Exhibit.

Breaking through the trees, he turned to Emma. "I'll race you to the other side of the big circle." Simon said,

"It's not a big circle Daddy. It's the 'lips." Emma said as if calling it a circle was a disgrace to the grass.

"Ellipse," Simon enunciated carefully for her. Simon was about to ask where she learned that from. Before he did though, he knew the answer; her mother or the preschool she insisted on sending Emma to. Emma was enrolled in one of, at least in his opinion, the coolest preschools around. Meeting at the Natural History Museum, Emma attended the Smithsonian Early Enrichment center four days a week. While the kids got to play in the playroom; color, play, or do art projects; typical preschool activities a couple times a week the world unlocked for them. His three year old daughter had visited more museums, than he had having lived in the city for thirteen years. Today they would be going to the Butterfly Gardens. Emma would probably come home completely conversant on metamorphosis and spurting the scientific names for butterflies and many of the plants that sustain them. What she learned never ceased to amaze him.

For example, on a beautiful day earlier in the spring, Emma was outside playing with Ron who had stopped over to drop off some paperwork and couldn't say no to Emma's pleas to go outside. Emma, he had been told, had pointed up and said "Uncle Ron, we have in that tree a robin's nest. Robins are Oviparous." Ron just stared at her. "That means," Emma continued, "they lay eggs." Emma loved to learn and Simon accounted it to her preschool.

Emma had originally attended the day care in the OEOB, not just for its convenient location and flexible hours but because Simon had insisted; it maintained a level of security that was nearly impossible anywhere else. Emma's birth had been covered extensively in the press and just hours before CJ was to come back part-time from maternity leave, Carol had opened the first letter from Jeffery Davis. Carol had frantically called Simon and the letter was turned over to the secret service for investigation, without CJ's knowledge. Simon's job did hold some perks.

_The First Lady and an in flight Army doctor, delivered Emmalie Lynn Donovan-Cregg two and a half weeks early, nevertheless completely healthy, aboard Air Force One, on a flight back from Europe._

_In addition to the fact that forty members of the press had essentially been in the waiting room, eager to hear the announcement, as it was an interesting human interest story. Deemed a present to the new mother and probably hoping to earn points with the Press Secretary, announcements explaining the very unique circumstances of Emma's birth followed in every major US report, including several international publications. When one reporter posed the question of the media darling's citizenship status, press frenzy erupted. _

_A couple weeks later CJ's maternity leave was interrupted, when she was called in for a meeting with Leo a week before she was scheduled to return. Simon was securing a location for a Presidential function later in the evening and had been unable to leave work. With CJ unwilling to leave the two and a half week old infant at home with the new nanny, Emma made her first of many appearances in the White House. The President who was running late for an oval office meeting with Admiral Fitzwallace and Nancy McNally refused to hand the little girl back to her mother. Instead he reassured her taking the baby into a national security briefing and sending a concerned CJ off to her meeting next door with Leo. _

_Twenty minutes later, Leo and CJ entered the oval office to see the Commander and Chief of the United States sitting in his customary chair, cradling a sleeping infant, and listening to a report on increasing tensions in Asia. Seeing Leo and CJ enter, the president ended the already finished meeting. "You know Abby told me this morning that the press is still debating whether it is legitimately possible for her to obtain this office," Jed said. _

"_Well you're already sharing with her state secrets so I would say she has a leg up over the other possible candidates." Leo joked with him._

"_She was born on Air Force One, US government property by the way, into the waiting hands of the First Lady of the United States of America. If anyone is preordained as the first woman president elected to this room, it's my newest granddaughter." Jed said. _

"_I think we should give our granddaughter a chance to master reading, writing, and arithmetic, maybe even attend college, before we start placing the expectation of world peace on her." Leo responded. _

_CJ stood watching as the two most powerful people in the world, cooed over her little girl. It was more like two old men cooing over their self-proclaimed granddaughter. The latter thought held a bitter sweet feeling._

"_Now are you going to share, or do you need to be sent to kindergarten too?" asked Leo rhetorically._

_While the members of National Security Advisor's and Chairman of the Joint Chiefs' respective staffs had already left, Nancy, Fitz and the few others who remained chuckled at the two grown men fighting like children. CJ on the other hand burst out laughing, the President and Leo following._

"Daddy!" Emma giggle filled voice yelled over her shoulder already a few paces in front of him. "I said go."

Simon smiled and ran after her. She clearly beat him to the path on the other side of the field. Taking Emma's hand they crossed 15th Street to the hot dog vender across from the National Aquarium. Simon bought two hot dogs and two apple juices. While CJ drank her diet, caffeine free coke, Simon wasn't a big fan of soda.

"'emember _only_ ketchup." Emma called up to her father, stressing the word only.

"How could I _ever_ forget?" he called back to her.

Emma carried the apple juice while Simon carried their hotdogs; one with only ketchup, one with mustard and onions; to a bench on the mall.

She carefully placed the apple juices on the bench, in the process of bending down her sunglasses fell to the ground. "Oops," she said. Picking them up and placing them back over her eyes.

Simon laughed to himself. Emma had climbed onto the bench, her arms crossed over her yellow sundress, her sunglasses firmly in place, surveying the mall to either side of her. His little agent he thought to himself. Grabbing a napkin he tucked it into her collar to protect her dress and placed the hotdog in her outstretched hands. "What were you looking for?" Simon asked, curious to the inter-workings of his daughters mind.

"The TV says it 'pose to be a 'code red' day and I was helping look for the secret."

"They meant the weather, sweetie, that it would be very hot today." The fact that his little girl even knew what a code-red was, scared the hell out of him. They had never hid the dangers of their jobs from her, but since Emma had never known anything different, they never felt the need to frighten their baby with things they couldn't change.

The confusion already present on Emma's face, intensified for a moment. Before it scrunched up, evidence she was thinking real hard. "Oh." Content with the answer, she picked up the hotdog with both hands and took a big bite. "Yumm," she said her mouth full, content too with the hotdog.

Simon's face broke out in a grin; a smile his wife loved and his daughter shared.

Twenty minutes later he walked down the stairs leading to D Street and headed the six blocks back to work. If you had told him five years ago, let alone that first day he had sat on the barstool with Ron that he would meet a woman, a beautiful, confident, sexy woman and fall head over heals in love with her and they would have Emma, a testament of their love, he never would have believed you. But, Simon thanked God everyday that he had.


End file.
